Alarm claxons blared throughout the base as Mamoru ran to the H.V.E.
hanger. He didn't know what the threat was— the audio warnings didn't
seem to be working— but that particular sound combined with that pattern
of flashing lights could mean only one thing; the base was under attack.
He stumbled into the launch bay just in time to see Hyato climbing into
the cockpit of his H.V.E.

"Hyato, what's going on?" Mamoru called out to the smaller
man. The mechanized armor was fully armed with dual beam Vulcans and as
many racks of various explosive payloads as they could hold.

Hyato stopped, nearly slamming his head into his weapon's armored torso.
"Chiba, it's gone crazy, real fuckin' crazy!" cried the man
before climbing into the H.V.E.

"What has?" Mamoru queried as he climbed into his own unit
and began power-up procedures. The holographic displays came alive, already
indicating that there were cargo pods on the surface that he and his squad
were assigned to retrieve.

Hyato's answer came over the comm-system. "B.A.S.C. It's gone nuts.
The thing's already cut life-support to most of the base and nearly everyone
outside of the command and pilot areas are dead."

Well, there life went and got worse. Mamoru shook his head in amazement.
How can a computer go crazy? Then again, B.A.S.C. wasn't exactly the most
normal of computers. By the time Hyato's answer had come through, the
rest of the H.V.E.s were manned and ready to go. "All right, men,
the moon's going to Hell and we're not sticking around to see what Hell
looks like," he shouted over the comm.

"Orders, sir?" A sudden explosion and a burst of static obscured
the voice enough that Mamoru couldn't clearly make it out.

"Retrieve cargo pods at the end of landing strip E and evacuate
into space. If we pull that off, I'll see about telling you the rest.
Now move!" Moving itself wasn't a problem. The armor moved easily.
The hangar doors, however, didn't. "Damn it, pull back and raise
shields."

Mamoru made sure all of his men were at the back of the bay and that
the distortion created in the air by the H.V.E.'s shield systems was active
around each of them. As Commander, his H.V.E. had a few perks; stronger
shields, thicker armor, more powerful thrusters, a quicker response time,
and bigger guns. The big gun in question was a particle beam smasher that
made up the entire mechanism of his armor's left forearm.

With gravity lower in the hangar and the overall power of the weapon,
Mamoru had to brace his H.V.E. against a bulkhead and kill the power to
its magnetic joints, turning it into a completely immobile piece of advanced
hardware. The entire suit hummed for the four and a half seconds it took
for the weapon to reach capacitance. The white beam of energy materialized
a foot from the focus array at the end of the barrel, expanding to nearly
the diameter of the H.V.E. itself.

Eight foot-thick doors, each made of the lunar titanium variant, ceased
to exist as anything but energy as the enormous beam of energy struck
them. The molten metal at the edges of the hole cooled quickly, a combination
of the chilled vacuum of space and the titanium variant's ability to dissipate
heat.

Outside, it was readily apparent that something was wrong. The lights
throughout the base were dead and none of the insect-like mining drones
that constantly plundered the moon's resources appeared to function.

Taking charge, Mamoru directed his squad to the cargo pods and they each
assumed control of one of the large containers, via magnetic tractor beam.
They assumed a holding altitude, maglev thrusters holding the massive
exoskeletons and their burdens in place.

Mamoru got within range to use laser transmission and brought up the
base command center on his main display. It was abandoned, as far as Mamoru
could tell, except for Bill Gates, the Wizard of Gates. The man was pale
and sweating, his hands shaking visibly. His head jerked up and he saw
Mamoru's face on the monitor. "Go…" he rasped. "Escape
while you still can!" he said more vehemently.

He'd never cared much for Gates, but Mamoru didn't really have anything
against him, and he'd been a good boss, if a little… strange. "Sir,
what about you?" he asked.

Gates laughed, a hollow, dead sound. "I'm already dead. It's sealed
me in here, a tomb of my own making." That was good enough for Mamoru,
but he waited to hear anything else his former employer might say. "The
flux generators are in place; your squad will be able to function. Bring
order to the chaos."

Damn, that sounded to Mamoru like something he would have said. He was
about to say something kind, a farewell speech that would maybe sooth
Gates' tormented mind, but over the command center's comm he heard: "Lunar
Base defense system's going online. Particle beam cannons active in T-minus
thirty, twenty-nine…"

Screw that. He had to get back to Usagi. Mamoru wasn't about to risk
his life for the maniac. He used every ounce of power his thrusters could
give him in escaping to his comrades. "We're going home," he
told the men. "B.A.S.C. has control and it doesn't want us around."

Without further comment, they all headed for the orbital re-entry lander
once meant to bring the first wave of conquering mobile suits, but now
only served as a getaway ride.

"Wil, you've gotta promise me; if I turn into one of those things,
you'll take me out," Buffy demanded, her voice pleading. The bite
to her arm hadn't healed like it should have. Normally she didn't stay
injured for more than a few days, but the vicious wound had only worsened,
forming a slowly growing area of reddened, scaly flesh. Not to mention
that it hurt like hell.

Willow shivered. She couldn't stand to hear her lover talk like that.
"Buffy, don't be silly, that little old thing will go away in a few
days, you'll see." She didn't sound like she even believed herself.

"Maybe we can find you a doctor," Ryoga volunteered. Buffy
was a formidable fighter, and he'd been hoping to train her. That wound
on her arm, though, was bad, worse than any he'd seen with the exception
of the one on his chest that he'd received from one of Ranma's pet demons.
He'd had proper medical care and time to recuperate, though. Buffy didn't
have either, not even any antibiotics. Ryoga doubted that there were any
antibiotics for something that turns people into zombies, but they couldn't
have hurt.

"Yeah, sure, a doctor," Buffy sighed. She knew she was bad
off. Her slayer powers were being slowly beat back by the infection; otherwise
she would have been among the undead days earlier.

"Hey, what's that?!" Ryoga shouted, pointing into the darkening
sky. It appeared to be a meteorite, but, as they watched, the falling
object changed its angle of descent and braked, filling the air with the
roar of powerful engines. As the fire of rocket engines lit the sky, the
trio saw what appeared to be an oversized space shuttle making a vertical
landing not too far ahead.

"Wow, do you think that astronauts have been in space the whole
time Earth has been powerless?" Ryoga, again.

"Come on, Buffy, they may have medical supplies!" Willow exclaimed,
tugging on her friend's uninjured arm excitedly. If only her magic was
more powerful, or had she had time to learn more powerful healing spells.
Willow couldn't help her love, but maybe someone else could.

"I know we've not gone out of our way to not kill them, but if you
ever run across the Alliance, especially the Musk, try to get friendly
with them," I explained. "You can't be everywhere at once, and
the Alliance is powerful. They may know of Umbrella (I hope Usagi got
the message through to the Elders, at least) already and be willing to
help. You know what to do if they threaten you, though." We were
standing on the outskirts of a burned out village. I could feel the residual
traces of magic and chi that indicated a powerful Alliance force.

"Yes, mother," quipped the cyborg. Ryu rolled his eyes and
continued, "And I won't mess with the Senshi. I know what to do."
I've sorta started feeling responsible for those I take under my wing.
I can't help it.

I shrugged. "Well, later then. Have fun and don't let the world
go to Hell while I'm gone." Ryu nodded and we shook hands. I kicked
in a flight spell and rapidly ascended. The first alternate universe,
dimension, realm, plane, whatever you wanted to call it, that I'd chosen
to travel to didn't have a very complex set of spell coordinates, but
to use them I had to be traveling fast. Just under Mach one.

It's not much of an effort to go half that, but once you start to accelerate
further, the energy burn begins to grow exponentially. I could have just
used my new sword to do the work, but one of the main reasons I'd made
the monstrosity was to keep myself from relying on that form of power.
With full reserves, I'd be down to a little more than half strength when
I crossed the barrier. That's not really bad, but I don't like to drop
below two-thirds, just in case I run into nasty trouble.

Not really a big problem; I'll just replenish myself in the next dimension.
This one wasn't like that fucked-up future Earth I'd visited where magic
was locked away in a floating Chicago. As I built speed, I formed shields,
shaping them to decrease the drag created by my body and to protect myself
from the wind and friction encountered at such speeds.

The energy pattern for the jump was firmly engrained within my shield
when I reached the required speed, and magic was visibly radiating from
my body. Ah… right about… now! The sensation wasn't unlike that created
by my teleportation spell, except for the subtle variation in the feel
of the flowing energies that spoke of more profound travel than just that
of inter-dimensional movement.

Oddly enough, when external awareness returned, I was stationary, floating
at approximately the same altitude as before. Good, now I didn't have
to worry about running into a mountain before I could kill my forward
momentum.

I reached out to grab the energy needed to restore my reserves, and while
it wasn't difficult, it was an unusual experience. The energy, normally
just a kind of aetheric raw energy, kept wanting to separate into five
more-defined but weaker energies. Once within my body, though, the energy
obeyed the sorcerous laws of my own dimension, and remained as it should.

It'd be interesting to see what the Talented people in this universe
were like. To have evolved their power and skills to work in such a weird
medium, they couldn't possibly practice the same brand of magic as that
of Earth.

Other than the energy, not much seemed different about this world than
Earth. The gravity felt the same and the air and sun smelled and looked
the same. Well, I'm here. Where should I begin? Answered easily enough.
This plane had to have its own version of Hell, all I had to do was find
someone, or something, that normally resided there, and I could get some
directions.

Unless I'm luckier than should be possible, evil isn't widely accepted
(I'm not evil and you know it; the bad guys just like me, that's all),
anywhere. So, I can't just go around asking for the nearest demonic stronghold.

Firing up the old location spell (this thing is a lot more complicated
than that, but I prefer one word descriptions for my spells), I managed
to pick out a few places where magic was concentrated and regularly manipulated.
As a side note, electricity seemed to be limited to natural lighting and
that created by sorcery.

I decided not to take any chances. With magic only regularly used in
a handful of places, I doubt that many people here are accustomed to seeing
someone fly. I hope that there are 'people' here. I've seen some
of the TV shows; there really could be a Smurf Land. How did the poor
bastards get by with just one female in the whole village, anyway?

And now back to the subject. Instead of hoofing it, I just camped out
in the woods during the day, hunting as needed, and flew at night. This
went on for almost a week. There were a few villages reminiscent of those
in China, but less ramshackle. By the way, there were people. They were
a little short, but they were people.

I passed a few larger towns, probably considered big cities here, and
something that looked suspiciously like that arch thing over in America—
St. Louis, I think. Then, on the seventh night here, I crested a low hill
and caught sight of a real city. I snapped a few quick mental pictures
of the place from a distance (things like that make great postcards) and
made a mental note to bring Ami here when she recovered.

The city was situated on an island in the middle of a river. The city's
lanterns and torches turned the sky a soft yellow, and I could just barely
make out the detailed structures that comprised it. Unlike the towns from
earlier, I couldn't see any signs of squalor or poor maintenance, and
perhaps more importantly, I couldn't smell it from miles off, even while
upwind. This was close enough, I'd catch a few hours sleep before dawn
and pay a visit to the impressive tower that radiated power.

And, once again, things go to shit for me. I mean, is it so much to ask
for a lucky break or three? Sigh. I was surrounded by at least a dozen
men, all armed and giving off all kinds of body language that just screamed
'I'm a trained killer'. Nine women, if I saw all of them were included
with the men but none of them were armed or armored. They all wore red
in varying styles that reminded me of medieval Europe and were all Talented.

This world's version of Talent was more mutated than I'd previously thought
possible. Each of the women was Talented, of that I'm sure, but the Talent
didn't reside within them, it sorta floated around their body and soul.
I couldn't really see any advantages to this, but several disadvantages
were quite noticeable.

The Talent could be easily lost with such a tenuous link to the owner's
soul (it'd have been nice if those Amazons of old had gotten their newborn
soul from here). All I had to do was lash out with some specifically shaped
white magic and poof, burnt out Talent. If all Talented folks here followed
the same pattern, not a single one of them could actually store energy
within themselves. That made it oh-so-easy to block them off from all
power.

That's what they were trying with me now. A woven pattern of what felt
like the white/light factor that some of the magic was separated into
wrapped around me tightly, cutting off my access to ambient magical energy.
Right now they're probably thinking that I'm damned near harmless. Heh.

I stood up, pulling my sleeping bag and pillow (roughing it doesn't have
to be too rough) into my spatial pocket. That act alone got a few gasps
and muttered curses. Those had been in English, and while not sounding
like any swear words I know of, they had the emotion and sound to get
the message across.

"Hey, nice morning, eh?" I asked, playing groggy while shielding
and priming a few unkind spells. My English is pretty good. Demons have
this really useful ability to speak any language (have no idea how they
got it), and for some reason, like to speak English, so I picked it up
in my childhood. The men tensed, readying to draw swords or slightly raising
those already drawn.

"Of all the nerve," spat one of the women. What's up with those
faces? They look kinda tight, like they're drawn back or something. Another
Talent mutation?

"You're quite defenseless now," said another woman. She was
the only one to have gray hair, hair gray with age, yet her face remained
young and unlined. "Why not make things easier on yourself and come
peaceably?"

I was going to scratch the back of my head, this time not in nervousness,
but a gesture to convey the emotion falsely. I like to make people underestimate
me, then spring it on them just how outclassed they are. My arm never
made it to the back of my head. One of the sorceresses, using another
woven thread of power, this one with an elemental feel of air to it, locked
my arm in place. Jeez, these bitches weren't any fun.

"Don't move!" snapped yet another woman in red.

I left the arm in place. Why mess up the game when it's just getting
good? "What have I done to get such wonderful treatment from you
lovely ladies?" Hey, it worked on Sailor Jupiter that one time. Makoto
is so gullible.

They actually started growling. Well, damn, time to change my approach.
"Ah, I get it, you all are a bunch of muff divers?" And not
a single one of them understood.

"This grows tiresome. Seize him." That was the gray haired
woman. I can't blame them for underestimating me. I wasn't armed and was
making an effort of masking any outward sign of my physical prowess.

Only three of the men stepped forward. Each of them moved with the grace
that only those of us who are really good at kicking other people's asses
can. Thing is, when you're that good, you know it and only walk like that
when you're trying to show off. These guys should just come at me with
a relaxed gait like anyone on the street would.

Shredding the air that bound my arm, I materialized my sword. They seemed
to like swords. I wonder how they'll like mine. A casual flick of my wrist
and I threw up a dome of white magic that would serve the same purpose
as these sorceresses' barrier field, or whatever it was. The men could
enter to fight me, and the women too, if they wanted, but they wouldn't
be throwing any spells at me until I wanted them too.

The warriors stopped short when my vorpal bladed sword appeared, eying
the wickedly curving weapon with caution. They only missed that single
beat, then, in unison, returned to their previous pace. Three at a time
was an optimal number. Four could be done, but there was a chance that
they would get in each other's way.

There was some shouting and muffled cursing in the background. I didn't
pay much attention to it. This was about utterly humiliating some guys
who were totally too impressed with themselves.

I slid the first strike to my left, forcing the point of my attacker's
sword into the ground. A spinning axe kick and he went flying back over
the heads of his companions, sword still in hand. He was tough enough
that he should only be stunned by that. The next two came at me from the
right and left. Their strokes were quick, efficient, and powerful. Their
styles were different, kinda, and flowed well, but it was still easy to
see how they were trained in particular sword strike patterns. Once I
had the proper defense pattern set in my mind, I turned that part of the
fight over to autopilot and sent my senses out to the others.

The guy I'd kicked was stalking towards me from behind and the women
were in a tight cluster, arguing heatedly. Heightened senses allowed me
to smell and sense the fear, anxiety, and astonishment in the air. Good.
They'd never seen anything like me before, and even though I still didn't
know why they wanted me, I now had a good idea of how these people operated,
Talent- and Martial-wise.

Coming back to myself fully, I disengaged the automatic defense and took
the offensive. The swords used by these men weren't exactly enchanted,
but they had been forged with magic. They could take a surprising amount
of punishment. Normal steel would have been pathetic against them. My
sword wasn't normal. I was carving slivers of metal from their weapons
every stroke I made and they didn't seem to notice.

Right before being stabbed in the back, I lashed out with my foot, catching
the still woozy and unsuspecting man in the crotch. That had been mean,
and I mostly try to avoid doing that to guys (sympathy, I guess), but
I would have really liked to finish that dream about Ami. Bastard— it
was his own fault, really.

To be continued.

Author's Notes: And I'm going to stop here. Ranma's in Randland and the
Aes Sedai are never going to be the same again (grin). I really hate them.
Ranma is REALLY gonna hate them, especially when they won't leave him
alone, no matter how many he kills. I'll probably introduce Ranma to Rand
in a few chapters, but first he's gotta decimate the bitches and pay a
visit to the Dark One. For once, Ranma isn't going to get along with the
bad guys (I'm going to use an idea for some of the stuff in The Wheel
of Time that I've had for a couple years now, but have never really
mentioned. It has to do with the One Power and the Dark One's existence).
I didn't even think about it until I was about halfway finished, but Callandor,
the sa'angreal that is the second most powerful ever made, and acts likes
a lens for the male half of the One Power, is a lot like Ranma's new and
improved mega-athame. Can't you just imagine the Aes Sedai, Asha'man,
and Forsaken drooling over it? Well, that's all for now. Please send me
C&C at dark_phoneix@hotmail.com